Drowning
by Amourwolf
Summary: Mal died, but her ghost won't rest until she takes Cobb with her. Arthur sits and watches because he doesn't know what else to do.


Cobb's hands are cold. It's the first thing Arthur notices when the Extractor grips his hands like a lifeline. Their eyes meet and the expression in Cobb's is tormented. Arthur sees Mal's presence in there, a shadow, a fragment of a memory that's too painful to remember as a whole, so it's brought forth in bits and pieces, but even those hurt.  
He takes it all in stride; he is the Point Man after all.  
The first thing Arthur does is drape his jacket around Cobb's shaking shoulders.  
Mal was drowning him. He could see it in Cobb's eyes. Those eyes held the look of a drowning man.  
Mal's memory was an anchor sinking to the bottom of an ocean of madness.

Arthur doesn't say anything when Cobb's forehead comes to rest on his shoulder. He looks over at the man and sees the lines etched into his face. He looks tired. Arthur sighs sadly.  
The Point Man doesn't move for a long time. There were things that could be done in this time instead of sitting here being Cobb's personal pillow, but when he looks over at his friend, he realizes that this is where he's needed right now.

The glass shatters as it hits the floor. Cobb stares down at the broken pieces as they glint in the early morning sun. Arthur has his head turned, an angry red welt forming on his cheek where Cobb had punched him.  
"You can't keep doing this." He says without turning.  
Cobb snorts, angry. "I can do what I damn well please, Arthur."  
Arthur turns to him and if Cobb wasn't drunk, he would have sworn that there were tears in his eyes. "I can't watch her drown you like this, Cobb." There's a violent shake of his head and something glints in the air, before falling to join the pieces of glinting glass on the floor and Cobb realizes that maybe his eyes weren't deceiving him. It's too late though, for the door's swinging and Arthur is gone.

It took longer than necessary, but he found him. Arthur was worse for the wear; purple bruises splotched well past the gauze strips. The plastic chair scrapes noisily against the floor, but Arthur does not wake. Cobb clasps his hands together and props his elbows up against the plastic railing, leaning his forehead against his joined hands. 'Please wake up.'

It's after the job gone south with Mal incident. Cobb had his back turned to Arthur, lost in thought. 'Lost in her.' Arthur thinks. He reaches forward with a hand, intending to lay it on Cobb's shoulder…to what, exactly? Shake him? Show him that he's not alone in this?  
Arthur lets his hand drop mid-air and hangs his head as Cobb walks away. 'I'm losing you.' He thinks. 'I'm losing you to her and there's nothing I can do about it.'

There's tense words. 'Don't you see? She's taking you down with her! You have people waiting here for you and you're still stuck down there!' Oh how he wants to scream these words at Cobb. Shout them at the top of his lungs. Maybe throw in a few punches to emphasize the key points.  
He sees Mal gaining purchase on Cobb's mind, black tendrils inking their way into every corner and recess. He watches as her twisted memory takes hold and won't let go.  
Arthur watches as his best friend drowns in the memory of his wife. It's constructed of guilt and loss and Arthur knows the final nail in the coffin when he sees it. Mal died, but her ghost won't rest until she takes Cobb with her.  
He sits and watches because he doesn't know what else to do.

Arthur buries his face in his hands, just to hide from the world for a while. They're cold. He looks up. Mal's there, black dress, smoking gun in hand. He sees Cobb's lifeless body on the floor, papers strewn around like wings. Mal smiles, raises the gun.  
"You love him?"  
"He's my friend." Arthur answers truthfully. Of course he loves Cobb. He wouldn't have stayed beside him all these years if he hadn't. But he knows this game. One wrong answer would send Mal into a fit of rage.  
"If you love him, then why won't you let him be with me?"  
He can't play it cool with that one. "Because you're killing him, Mal."  
The gun trembles. "He's mine. You cannot have him."  
"I don't want him. What I want is for you to let him go."  
"You say you love him and yet you do not want him?"  
"There are many kinds of love, Mal." Arthur says. "Cobb needs to move on with his life. He has Phillipa and James to care for. They need their father, Mal." He pauses for a beat, checks the gun. Mal's trigger finger is relaxed, but her hand is shaking. "Cobb can't be the father he needs to be with you hanging around. Every time he looks at his children, he sees pieces of you."  
Mal points the gun in his face. "You lie! My children are where they need to be. Dom is not where he's needed. He needs to be with me."  
Arthur is calm. He stares Mal in the eye. Her image is splintering, pieces of skin chipping off and flying into the wind as tendrils of black smoke unfurl out like vines. She's breaking. "No, you need him."  
"Dom needs me too." She whispers and slips a knife into his ribs. The gun is gone. "You think you can keep him tied here, in this false reality? Dom needs to be with me." She removes the knife, watches as a red rose petal blooms on Arthur's stark white shirt. She slides the knife in again and again and again. Arthur is oddly silent throughout the ordeal. Then, she twists the knife in one final thrust and he cries out in pain. Cobb's awake in a flash. Mal smiles and is gone, knife clattering on the floor.  
He rushes to Arthur, shaking hands unsure of where to put pressure first. There's so much blood and Arthur is almost out of time. "No use." He whispers past rivulets of blood dripping out of the side of his mouth. Cobb shakes his head, violently. "No. You're going to be okay."  
Arthur's dark eyes are glassy, unfocused, but he forces himself to look into Cobb's panicked ones. "But you're not." Amidst the pain, he lets his fear slide into his tone. Cobb shudders. "How long? How long have you known?"  
"Long enough." Arthur chokes out. His eyes are closed. Cobb knows he's not going to make it. He sees the gun beside the chair leg, picks it up and squeezes the trigger.

Arthur wakes up with a start. He looks over as Cobb bolts for the bathroom and hears water rushing through the pipes. Standing, he follows him, and shuts the water off.  
"Can't get it off." Cobb whispers, frantic. He's scrubbing at his hands like they're stained. A wave of nausea washes over the Point Man. He can't place the feeling that caused it, but he picks up on things like distress and guilt. Arthur forces it down, shuts it out and places a towel over Cobb's hand. "Enough. It's gone." He lifts the towel, to show Cobb that there's nothing to worry about. Cobb's expression intensifies and Arthur follows his gaze.  
The towel is dotted with red. "Cobb…" Arthur starts, but his words fall on deaf ears. Cobb is frantically reaching for the spinning top, sighing as it spins and spins then topples over.  
Arthur grabs his shoulder firmly. He wants to speak, but the words aren't there. Cobb tenses and Arthur responds in kind, gently squeezing. "I—I," Cobb starts, uncertainly. Arthur shakes his head, tightens his grip. He realizes that there are no words for this.  
'I'm sorry,' He wants to say. 'I should have been there for you. Instead, I sat back and watched you drown in your own sorrow.'  
They sound hollow and empty to him. Now isn't the time for words. Now is the time for actions.  
Arthur stays with Cobb like that for a very long time.


End file.
